1000 Words
by Mayumi-H
Summary: P4. Hanamura Yousuke and the girl of his consideration. *Episodic fiction. *Semi-companion piece to 1 More Chance!
1. 1000 Words, 2011 May

_Shin Megami Tensei and Persona 4 are owned by Atlus. Names and likenesses used here without permission._

**1000 Words  
by Mayumi-H, AKA BonusParts**

Yousuke stands over her shoulder as she writes her name on the timesheet in a girlish script, amused by the delicateness of her writing. But it's the characters that she uses that make him pause.

One thousand words.

That's what her name means?

That kind of makes sense, now that he thinks about it, since she talks almost at that speed per second, even when she's snarfing down half his paycheck in steak korokke from Souzai.

Would one thousand words do her justice, he wonders, as he watches her scribble little anecdotes about how it feels to be a good service person to customers (that's not what the line "Position description" is for, but he doesn't tell her that), and he snickers to himself.

He's used a thousand words to scold her, whenever she's gotten knocked down in a fight with a Shadow, because girls are supposed to be soft and demure and protected, not jumping into the front lines to get in the first hit, no matter how dangerous her kicks are.

He's used a thousand words to shut her up, whenever she gets it in her head that she's smarter than he is, or figured something out before him, or just plain used her impressive volume to drown him out in one of their countless arguments.

He's used nearly a thousand words' worth to summon Jiraiya for her bruises and bashes...and the Persona uses almost as many words of his own to needle him in his seemingly perpetually snickering, aethereal voice that she only has to be healed because he's not man enough to protect her in the first place. (He only needs one word to respond to that. Two, if the Persona really needs a talking-down.)

And he's used a thousand words to convince her that he doesn't need anybody to help him up when he falls, certainly not a girl who no less than a few months ago would have just laughed at the mess of his poor bike (oh, _Arashi_, you beautiful, loud, speedy demon, you) and him whenever he'd end up crashing head-first into the bins that smell of cat food in front of Shiroku.

He's used a thousand words to describe her to his family, who keep asking him about his friends, especially the girls he's been seen with at the food court. His mother says she's pretty, but he never knows which girl she's talking about (and he never asks, because that's not playing it cool at all), and instead he just tells her, _She's all right_, not really caring to which girl she's referring because he doesn't care, either...because no girl could ever be like senpai, especially not a girl whom he can't even describe in less than a thousand words.

He's used a thousand words to try and start a real conversation with her, but it almost always happens late at night when he's got only the case and the beautiful face of Konishi Saki on his mind and he wants to forget about all of it and just be a regular guy, but all that usually comes to mind is the latest joke heard in the boys' lavatory. And she usually just tells him he's a sick jerk and hangs up on him anyway.

He's used a thousand words to find out about her from Souji, because he's seen Souji sometimes training with her down by the river bed, playing fighter. Souji just mutters that those kicks of hers are as painful as they look, and he has to snicker and commiserate...and then he has to tell Jiraiya to shut up again when his Persona asks him, _And just how close do you think Mister Leader Man has gotten to her, that he's gotten to feel those kicks? Closer than you, I'd wager._

He's used a thousand words to tell himself that he doesn't care how close Souji has gotten to her; he'd be happy never to have to feel one of those neutering blows to his groin ever again. He tells himself that Yukiko's a better match, anyway: Amagis' heiress is quiet, sweet, and pretty (...just like Saki...); she comes from a family with standing, too, which would make his parents happy – legitimization of Inaba's nouveau riche. He tells himself that it doesn't matter that he doesn't know Yukiko that well, not enough to ask her to help out at Junes, at least, and certainly not enough to call her on the phone out of the blue. Not like her; not like Chie.

And then he thinks of the thousand words that he's felt catch in his throat when he's seen her fall on the battlefield and heard her pained scream when he couldn't reach her in time...

And the thousand words that he's written and erased and written again on his sheet music, as he's tried to capture the way that she spins with such grace and power when she kicks her leg high above her shoulder...

And the thousand words he's uttered when he's been alone in his room holding his dick, as he's pictured her behind his eyelids: her bright eyes, her laughing smile, the hint of her small but pert breasts beneath her jacket, the curve of her calves and thighs and the secret sacred place between them that always pushes him over the brink...

...And the thousand words he's used to curse himself because the warm, sticky evidence in his hand is just proof positive that she's right about him, and at his core he's just a coward who can only just imagine her rather than take the time to really get to know her.

She passes him the completed timesheet with a little flourish and a smile. "Now can we eat?" she asks, looking hopefully at him.

He chuckles, almost despite himself. Because of all of the thousand words that come to mind right now, all he can think of to say is: "Sure."

But it's a start.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Just a quick and self-indulgent one-off that I had to get out of my head after talking with an artist about it, and to take a break from my Chie story, "1 More Chance!"

The Japanese kanji used for Chie's name can translate to "1,000 Words" - which I thought was an interesting springboard for a little vignette. I wrote this in about an hour, so I guess this should be considered a draft. It took some doing to get it to 1000 words exactly, but I rather enjoyed this as an exercise in albeit angsty brevity and perspective.

If you like it, let me know! I always appreciate hearing from readers!


	2. Tent, 2011 June

_Shin Megami Tensei and Persona 4 are owned by Atlus. Names and likenesses used here without permission._

**1000 Words: Tent (June 2011)  
by Mayumi-H, AKA BonusParts**

* * *

Yousuke clamps his PE jacket over his ears, but it doesn't do any good: that grating cacophony coming from the other end of the tent just won't let up. And now he thinks that maybe he should have just left Kanji alone tonight, because at least if it was Kanji over there snoring like a freight train, Yousuke could yell at him, or kick him, or even just throw something at him – anything to make the noise stop.

But it's not Kanji creating that terrible racket that threatens to make his ears bleed; it's _one of the girls_.

He wants to get up and at least see which one of them it is, because that will give him some ammo tomorrow, when they start to protest about the swimsuits (and he knows that they will...but in all honesty that's half the fun of it). But Souji made it clear in no uncertain terms that nobody (he said "nobody," but Yousuke knew Souji meant him) was allowed to move from their little rectangle of space until the morning, unless the tent was on fire...or the gastronomical results of consuming that horrible Mystery Food X threatened to create a biohazard event.

There's another reverberant snore, and Yousuke clenches his fists around his jacket, ready to scream into the cotton. Then he hears it: Yukiko, whispering beneath the nerve-shattering dissonance:

"Chie-chan," she murmurs. "You're snoring."

"Hmm-whuh-?" Chie says, and Yousuke snarls silently into his jacket. Can't she hear her own fucking feedback?

"You're snoring," Yukiko repeats in a hushed voice.

"Sorry," Chie mumbles.

"Roll over," Yukiko tells her, "before you wake up the boys."

_Too late_, Yousuke thinks with a grimace, as he listens to the sounds of more mumbling and the distinctive rustling of clothes against sleeping bag and pillow (_his_ sleeping bag, and _his_ pillow, because Souji took it upon himself to offer the girls use of half their supplies – _his_ half).

He waits a second, his nerves on edge for more snoring, but it doesn't come. Then he shakes his head with a low sigh.

Of course Chie's the one; the girl kicks like a kangaroo, devours meat like a Tasmanian devil, and – evidently – snores like a sea lion. Yukiko, on the other hand, is so prim and demure that she probably farts flower petals. It's no wonder her Shadow originally manifested as an oujo...

_Even a pretty oujo is still no match for that joo-sama with the whips and chains, though, eh?_

Yousuke groans inwardly at the sneering voice inside him: Jiraiya, his Persona of the snapping snickers and impish ideas. (_Swimming, she said! __Sweet, soft girl-flesh, bright and white in the sun, and lots of it! Little gaeru, you can't _not_ take the chance to see _that_!_)

"Go away," Yousuke growls around a mouthful of sleeve, hoping that the others won't hear him talking to [_himself_] the voice in his head. These people are his friends [_sort of maybe hopefully_]_,_ and he really doesn't want them thinking he's crazy, on top of everything else [_slacker klutz pain in the ass_]_._

Luckily, Jiraiya doesn't speak very often...though when he does, Yousuke knows it's because his Persona knows things [_hidden things secrets truths_] about him: things that he doesn't like to examine too closely, but can't help but do so in the quiet and the dark.

Such as how he's spent nearly the entirety of the last two months in these girls' company, and yet he still hasn't worked up the nerve to ask either one of them [_on a date_] to hang out, like Souji's done who knows how many times already. The guy's been in Inaba half the time Yousuke has, and has probably scored twice as much by now...!

Or how his once all-consuming thoughts about beautiful Saki-senpai have...changed, of late. How he's forgetting what she looked like and sounded like and moved like, in favor of the other [_strong sweet trustworthy_] girls who keep pace with him in Mayonaka, and fight alongside him against Shadows, and [_save him_] offer him a hand when he falls.

Or how he – for some reason – still thinks about the [_seductive wicked gorgeous_] Shadow in the flimsy yellow bikini and the tall stiletto boots, whose snapping, cracking whip makes a sound like cymbals crashing in his dreams, from which he always wakes between sheets damp with cold [_spunk_] sweat.

_She's right over there_, Jiraiya whispers with his familiar undercurrent of laughter, and in response Yousuke clenches his eyes shut and smells deeply of the sharp odor in the armpit of his jacket and tries his very best to _just not think_ about how in his dreams that beautiful pale body in the [_green jacket_] yellow bikini twists and seethes with every snap of her [_leg_] whip, and what it would feel like to [_fuck_] fight her [_for the first time_] again...

But it's no use. School, work, even the threat of King Moron accidentally stumbling upon their expulsion-worthy tent double-up – nothing will make his [_d__esire_] thoughts of that exquisite [_girl_] Shadow having her way with him go away from behind his eyes.

So despite Souji lying there, and the girls asleep halfway across the tent, Yousuke eases his hand into his pants, where his excitement has pitched another tent. With a steady breath over his lips, he takes careful hold of himself, and gives himself one firm stroke...when he hears it again: a loud, stuttering snore from a girl's throat.

Yousuke's shoulders slump. But at least something else slumps, too, with the disruption of his forbidden fantasy.

Pulling his hand from his pants, he actually grins then, more relieved than annoyed. At least he can try to just sleep now, without having to deal with the embarrassment of a boner in front of his friends.

_Forgetting something?_ Jiraiya snickers. _Swimming tomorrow..._

Yousuke snaps to attention again, reminded of the bikinis in his bag.

Oh, shit.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

This is the closest that I've come yet to writing the Yousuke that appears in "1 More Chance!" - sexual hangups and all. The subject matter is a bit more in-your-face than most of these vignettes have been, but as an exercise, it was fun trying to figure out a way for him to be mentally stumbling over himself.

I'm not sure if I'm totally satisfied with the end result, but at least it's not jostling around in my head any longer. :)


	3. For Just a Second, 2011 June

_Shin Megami Tensei and Persona 4 are owned by Atlus. Names and likenesses used here without permission._

**1000 Words: For Just a Second  
by Mayumi-H, AKA BonusParts**

* * *

Four floors into the team's run through the striptease, it doesn't surprise Yousuke that nearly every treasure chest they find is filled with clothes; this is a construct of Rise's subconscious, after all, and the idol has a passion for clothes that would make the Imperial Princess blanch. It's what they find in the latest chest that gives Yousuke pause, though: a tunic in iridescent white, the length of a baby-doll dress, so sheer it's practically see-through, and way too small for anyone to wear.

Except for Chie.

For a second, the thought of her in such girly clothes makes Yousuke want to laugh...but makes his heart beat a little faster, too. Unfortunately, that'll just make his blood rush to his face, which will likely make Souji or Kanji (or both) call him on it. Or it'll rush to other places, which will make Chie go Critical-Hit-level ballistic on him.

Either way, not good.

She refuses, because it looks flimsy (and he agrees; though isn't the flimsiness part of what's so alluring about it?). Then Kanji does a quick inspection, stretching it between his fists knowingly, his knuckles showing clearly through (and for a second, Yousuke envies him, though he doesn't know precisely why).

"It's strong," Kanji confirms, passing it to Chie.

"All yours," Souji says. "We'll keep watch while you change."

"No way!" Chie gapes, and for a second Yousuke realizes he's gaping, too; then he coughs into his fist, in an attempt to mask his sudden excitement.

But Souji's persuasive (and Yousuke feels another pang of envy, sharper than the one he feels for Kanji, because Kanji doesn't have the same influence on girls that Souji does, and that's really what makes Yousuke feel like a dork in front of them...and Chie). He pushes his glasses up wittingly. "It's better protection than that blouse," he says, and then his face lights up with a smirk. "Unless you want _us_ to protect you..."

Chie blinks her eyes at Souji, Kanji, and then at Yousuke. (And does he imagine it, or does she take an extra second to look him over...?) Then she scrunches her nose, crumpling the tunic in her fist. "Fine," she grumbles. "But no peeking, or I'll send all of you into orbit...!"

"Understood," Souji agrees, pushing up his glasses again as he nods to Kanji and Yousuke, and they take up guard positions at the doorway.

It takes less than five seconds for Yousuke to start wondering what's taking Chie so long to change into the tunic, and during that time he can't stop his mind from going places he really doesn't need it to go, right now...

What if she's wearing one of those stretchy tank tops, like the girls on the track team wear? Or some cute push-up bra, to give her small, perky breasts that extra _oomph!_ that they need? Or a strappy, sporty bra that looks like that bikini top he picked out for her, for the school service trip? Or one of those sexy, lacy, onionskin-thin ones, that lets you see everything? Or what if..._what if_ (_oh, fuck, please, yes!_) she's not wearing anything at all, and he'll turn around and see her firm little breasts in all their bouncy, beautiful glory, at least for a second? It'll only be a second, he knows, because she will kill him after that. But, oh! That second...

He can't wait for that second.

So he looks at Kanji, and at Souji – both of them looking down opposite ends of the hall – and he decides the risk is worth it.

He lifts a hand to his face, pretending to scratch his nose, at the same time angling his dagger toward the back of the room. It takes a moment to find her reflection in the high-polished shine of metal, but when he does, he isn't disappointed.

She lifts the tunic over her head, shimmying into it with difficulty because of its tight fit. And just as he hoped, just as he prayed, she's completely naked from the waist up: just bare, beautiful skin from the waistband of her tight black shorts (the ones her ass looks poured into, and that he's only ever glimpsed beneath the flare of her skirts), to the sweat-dampened edges of her golden-brown hair at the nape of her neck.

He can see her muscles – smooth, supple, graceful – flex beneath her skin, which is fair along her back and bronzed along her arms, where she's let the summer sun find it on these warmer June days. He can see her shift from foot to foot, making her hips sway in a way they never have before, as if to show off even though no one's looking. (Except for him, of course, but she doesn't know that.) And he can see her tug at the bottom of the tunic, her head glancing down as she raises her hands in a way that can only mean she's cupping those perfect little breasts. (They're perfect, he's decided; they can't be anything but.)

But suddenly there's an uncomfortable weight in his chest, a feeling unlike anything he was expecting. She'll turn in a second, and he'll see her, and he wants to, he really does...but she trusts them (him), and there's something about that trust that's more beautiful than any fleeting glance.

So he closes his eyes and drops his hand to his side, swallowing back what could be shame or pride in himself.

"Ready?" Souji asks, and Chie replies:

"Yup."

Yousuke turns, smiling as she pushes up the sleeves of her jacket, which she's put on over the tunic. Somehow, the change is right.

"Thanks for watching," she whispers, and Yousuke's mouth drops open. "I mean, keeping watch," she corrects. Then she winks, and giggles, and bounds after Souji to take her place in the lineup.

And for just a second, Yousuke thinks he's in love.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I've wanted to use Yousuke's reflection trick for a while, but it just doesn't fit anywhere in my "1 More Chance!" story, as every venture into the TV world there is fraught with danger where this kind of stunt would feel in very poor taste. Regardless, I rather enjoyed writing Yousuke as a dick who can also be kind of sweet if the mood strikes him.


	4. Shut Up, 2011 July

_Shin Megami Tensei and Persona 4 are owned by Atlus. Names and likenesses used here without permission._

**1000 Words: Shut Up  
by Mayumi-H, AKA BonusParts**

* * *

It's midnight, and there's no rain. That's a good thing, but tonight, the clear skies make Yousuke feel lonely.

His phone sits beside him, its luminous face staring up at him. On rainy nights, there's always a number ready, to be dialed at the first sign of trouble: Souji's number, because Souji is their leader and Souji always knows what to do, even when the rain makes the people on the television do strange things that shouldn't be seen.

(And he wonders: Did anyone see that _other-him_, the one who said that he didn't care about Saki-senpai at all in the end, that all he'd wanted was an excuse to be somebody who was powerful, somebody who was special, somebody who was...somebody...?)

Yousuke shakes his head and sniffs, wiping at his too-tired-to-sleep eyes.

The clock reads 11:56 – too late to do anything except lie in his bed and stare at the ceiling waiting for something to happen, his fingers tapping a presto signature on the hardwood.

He shouldn't have taken the pill, he decides. Should have left it in the bottle, with the others. They don't do much of anything for him anymore, anyway, except make him jittery and keep sleep away. That's what _Sertraline Hydrochloride_ really means, he thinks – spastic insomniac; the treatment worse than the anxiety it was prescribed for... At least when he would get nervous around other people (girls), that feeling would go away when they went away, and he didn't have to deal with any of these stupid side effects.

With a defeated sigh, he reaches under his futon with one hand and pulls out a glossy magazine from a short stack of favorites, because he knows that will help him sleep. He picks it up, and it falls open to a double-page spread of beautiful airbrushed illusion, one he's looked at probably a million times before with pleasurable intent (nice tits, nice ass, nice legs) and then he has to stop himself. Because just as he's got his hand in his shorts he realizes that he's looking at a picture of giddy, giggly, sexy Risette, and that makes the illusion shatter.

It's the thought of Rise's limp body, weak from confronting her Shadow, that makes him stuff the magazine back under his futon. He'll throw it away tomorrow, because if he's really Rise's friend he won't think about her that way, won't use her for his own needs...even if it's not really Rise that he thinks about when he does those things. But it's still wrong (that's what Souji would say), and he shouldn't do it.

And a tiny part of him – the part that knows that Rise isn't Risette, that Rise's the real one, not the Shadow – doesn't want to do it anymore, anyhow. So he pulls his hand back out of his shorts and sighs, closing his eyes to think about the real girl, the one that matters.

Chie was the one who said that Rise needed rest, because she'd been pretty out of it when they'd saved her. So had Kuma, of course, but Yousuke didn't worry so much about the bear – no pretty smile there, no possibility of a hero's thank-you kiss or maybe even something more if he could somehow make it to Rise before Souji did. And while he had seen some pretty fucked-up stuff over there (just the memory of Kanji's Shadow still made him shudder), he'd never wanted to protect somebody so much as he'd wanted to protect Rise when they'd come out from the TV.

_Liar_, Jiraiya suddenly snickers at him.

Yousuke starts up at the sound of the now-familiar voice that needles and wheedles and that's been getting louder in his head after every time he talks to Souji, like Souji's somehow capable of breaking down the barriers between him and his Persona. (Souji is his friend, but sometimes he wishes that Souji would just leave him alone, if only to keep the voice in his head quiet.)

"Shut up," Yousuke mutters.

But the Persona enjoys badgering him: _Short skirts are easier to see up than long ones, _he chuckles,_ especially when the girl in question is always throwing her leg up for you, anyway._

"What's that supposed to mean?" Yousuke asks, at the same time wondering if anyone else on the team has to deal with a nosey, horny, smart-ass Persona who won't mind his own business or be quiet when he's told.

_You can lie to everyone except me_, Jiraiya snickers again, the playful rhythm of his voice at odds with his words. _I am thou, remember? And thou art I._

"Yeah, well," Yousuke grumbles. "Thou art a douchebag."

_Fine_, Jiraiya laughs. _You'll learn, little gaeru. I may not be the one to teach you...but you'll learn._

Yousuke waits a second, then another, but the Persona doesn't say anything else, which is good. But the silence is almost worse.

So he does what he always does on late nights like this when he can't sleep and wants – needs – somebody to talk to: He picks up his phone and taps in the second-most-dialed number in his memory, the one that comes after Souji and before the number of the Junes payroll office.

The other end rings three times, and then she picks up:

"Hullo...?"

"Hey, Satonaka!"

"Hanamura...? What time is-? What are you doing calling me after midnight?"

"I couldn't sleep..."

He pauses, and there's more silence, and he worries maybe she's left him:

"Satonaka?"

She replies, awake but disgruntled: "...What?"

He pauses again, then grins. "So, there's this businessman," he says, snickering, "and he tells his wife: If you want to have sex with me, let me know by pulling on my penis one time-"

"Oh, shut up!" she shouts, and the line goes dead.

"Satonaka?" he asks, glancing at his phone. "Hello...?"

_Learned yet?_ Jiraiya snickers.

"Shut up."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I wasn't planning on making this a multi-chaptered fic, but Yousuke's voice just won't shut up. :)

Jiraiya's personality as a vocal trickster is difficult to differentiate from what other writers have done, but I've tried to keep him in a constant teasing mode, hence the reason why he's always laughing, snickering, etc., even when he's being totally serious. For a more interesting and fully-realized Jiraiya personality, find "Split Personalities" by Kisdota-The Freak Gamer, who does a great job of capturing this Persona as a character unto himself!


	5. Bike Girl Dog, 2011 August

_Shin Megami Tensei and Persona 4 are owned by Atlus. Names and likenesses used here without permission._

**1000 Words: Bike. Girl. Dog. (2011 August)  
by Mayumi-H, AKA BonusParts**

* * *

"Check out that body!" Yousuke whistles, grinning over the glossy image laid out in front of him. "You'll be mine one day, baby. No doubt about that!"

Sitting across from him, scribbling in a notebook, Souji simply chuckles. "It's good to have dreams," he says in that even, comfortably mocking tone that's become more commonplace for him these last several weeks.

It's Sunday, and they've taken up their usual positions at the Junes table they've dubbed their HQ while they wait for the others to arrive.

"I'll get her," Yousuke replies with a confident optimism that he actually feels, as he strokes his fingers over the full-color spread of gorgeous perfection.

"What makes you so certain?" Souji asks now, lifting his attention from his notebook at last.

"It's all part of my Master Plan," Yousuke says, and that makes Souji sit up in some curiosity.

"You have a Master Plan?"

Yousuke nods. "See for yourself." And from his wallet he pulls out the well-worn piece of paper he's kept close since The Plan first came to mind almost three months ago. He passes it to Souji, smiling proudly.

Souji looks at the paper, then turns it over and back again, nonplussed. "Hana," he mutters. "There are only three words on this piece of paper."

Yousuke frowns. "You're the one who said to keep things simple."

"I think you need to elaborate a bit more than this...!"

"It's a great plan!" Yousuke retorts, snatching the paper back from Souji with a swipe of his arm. He lays it flat upon the table, straightening its ruffled corners.

"One thing leads to another," he explains to Souji now as he reads over the words in front of him. "Once I've saved up, I'll get the bike. And once I've got the bike, the girl will come, easy." He snickers. "In more ways than one!"

Souji furrows his brow. "I can't say I think much of your attitude."

"What are you talking about?" Yousuke says, scoffing. "Chicks cream over bikes! I mean, look at this!" And he flips his magazine upside-down and shoves it toward the other boy.

Souji laughs. "That's a model! She's paid to sit on that motorcycle!"

Yousuke sniffs, then pulls the magazine back. "She's still hot," he mumbles. "And if – _when!_ – I get this _Ninja_," he says, tapping one finger upon the gleaming bike in the photo, "I'll have my pick of hot chicks. You'll see."

There's a long minute of silence. Yousuke knows Souji lets these moments hang because Souji is aware of just how much the silence makes Yousuke fidget...but not this time. This time, Yousuke knows he's right. Bike equals girl. It has to... otherwise he's got zero chance of ever getting laid.

But he doesn't tell Souji that; he's let too many things slip to Souji, already.

So when Souji sits back and smiles, Yousuke feels a subtle twinge of relief. Until Souji asks:

"Where does the dog come in?"

"Oh," Yousuke says, giving a shrug. "I've always wanted a dog. And I've never had one. It just...seems like something a guy should have, you know? Besides," he adds, turning know-it-all again, "girls like dogs. I mean, the bike'll get me pussy, but the dog'll keep her interested."

Souji turns dour again, in the same way his parents do (and that Yousuke hates), but then the affable smile returns. "You know," he drawls, "Satonaka has a dog."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Yousuke says, feeling his mouth curl in a sneer.

Souji shrugs, turning back to his notebook. "I'm just saying...!"

"What?" Yousuke presses. "Saying what?"

Souji peers at him again through grey fringe. "Maybe you're going backwards with this Plan of yours."

Yousuke blinks curiously at him...and then slumps back into his chair, grumbling, "What do you know?" Souji doesn't need a Plan; girls fall into his lap, sometimes without him even wanting them to! Like Rise. And Ai, and Yukiko, and every other pretty girl he knows. Even Chie...!

As if summoned by his thought, Yousuke suddenly hears Chie's familiar, high-pitched voice at his shoulder:

"Yo!"

"Satonaka!" Souji greets with a wave. Then he drops his hand back to the table, and pushes Yousuke's magazine toward the girl. "Does this motorcycle do anything for you?" he asks with a teasing smirk.

"Hey-!" Yousuke starts, but Chie cuts him off.

"Bikes are noisy," she mutters, apparently missing Souji's subtle goad. But then her face brightens, and she drops her finger onto the page. "I like this one, though."

Amid the abrupt excited pattering of his heart (for which he has no explanation, and doesn't want to examine), Yousuke follows the point of her focus. And then he wrinkles his nose, feeling an acute wave of disappointed disgust wash over him. "That's a scooter," he corrects her with a sneer; even just the word tastes bad in his mouth. No hot girl in her right mind would probably even let him get to second base, if she saw him on a scooter-!

But Chie just nods, and smiles, brightly and with confidence. "It's cute," she offers in explanation. Then she puts her fists on her hips and bobs her head again, as though prompting, the question forgotten. "Let's go, huh? Everybody else is already inside."

Souji follows her, making apologies about keeping them waiting, but Yousuke lingers behind, to clean the trash from the table. As he rolls up his magazine, stuffing it into his gakuran for later, he notices the rumpled paper - his Plan - sitting on the table. He picks it up and is about to tuck it back into his wallet, when he stops.

Glancing around to make sure no one's looking, he grabs Souji's discarded pen and scribbles, very carefully below the single line of text, _scooter?_

Then, at Souji's call - "Hana! You coming?" - Yousuke shoves the paper into his pocket and trots after his friends, and smiles, for why he doesn't quite know.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**  
Just playing around with Yousuke's POV, in between submissions for Persona-Pairings week over at deviantART, and working on "1 More Chance!"  
Hope you enjoy!


	6. In Her Pants, 2011 November

_Shin Megami Tensei and Persona 4 are owned by Atlus. Names and likenesses used here without permission._

**1000 Words: In Her Pants (November 2011)  
by Mayumi-H, AKA BonusParts**

* * *

"Here," she says, glancing quickly about before shoving something into his hand.

Yousuke looks down, feeling his eyes go wide – unable to speak, unable to move, unable to believe his _luck_ – as he stares into his palm, his fingers itching both thrillingly and timidly around the soft plaid cotton laying there.

It's her _panties_ that she's pressed so decisively into his grip, and now he can't even swallow for the excitement clutching at his innards.

Then he thinks: This is impossible. Just impossible.

There's no way, even in his wildest dreams, that any girl would give him her panties, the ones that she steps her tight, strong legs into, that she pulls up over her pale, perfect ass, that cups and covers her little pussy that he's always thought must taste like tart apples plucked fresh from the branch. Because that's how her hair smells whenever she stands next to him in the elevator they take to the Junes food court, and that's so hard to get out of his head until he's gasping steam in the privacy of a bath, or lying on his bedroom floor, a box of tissues beside him. And even then it doesn't completely go away, because he knows that in his head is the only way he'll ever really get close to her, the only way he'll ever get into her pants.

Yet, here he is, and here they are: beautiful, adorable, and sexy as hell. The only way they could be more delectable, in fact, is if she were still in them.

And as he stares into the criss-crossing pattern of yellow and black – just like her old powerful Persona (and like her frightening, seductive Shadow) – he can picture her, standing in front of him, her feet spread wide like always, dressed in these panties and nothing else: the tiny bow on the waist tickling her toned belly, the edges curling up between the milky skin of her thighs, and the lacy embellishments riding over the luscious curves of her ass.

Would he pull them off of her then, he wonders, as he's often dreamed of doing when he's thought about her, alone, in the sweaty dark?

Would he lay his hands upon the slopes of her hips – those firm, rounded hips that have gotten more womanly over the last half-year, almost without his realizing it – and curl his fingers under the lip of the waist, and pull them gently – oh, so gently – down, past her thighs that she shows off whenever she kicks, past her knees that she scrapes whenever she falls to them in a fight, and past her calves that tense and pop whenever she rises on her toes to see over the counter at Daidara's?

And would he then leave a trail of kisses along her skin, to press his face between her legs, like he's watched all of those bold celluloid rogues do whenever he's opened his laptop instead of his textbooks, to study what he really wants to know rather than all of the names and dates that his teachers and parents think are so important but that wouldn't in a million years ever make him more attractive to the opposite sex?

Or would he lift her up and lay her out on one of these desks, to writhe and blush and whine his name while he moves on top of her, like girls always do in the ero manga that he keeps shoved in a plastic bag under the loose sill plate in the second floor storage room of his house, for fear of being caught (again) and having to suffer through the embarrassment of having his secrets announced at the family dinner table?

Or maybe he would leave them on her, he thinks, to savor that sweet image of soft, fresh, tender femininity. Jiraiya chucklingly called it "girl-flesh"; Susanoo is more subtle, whistling in dulcet tones (when the Persona isn't roaring at him about how to be a man, that is) whenever any girl walks past about "Woman's wiles". Neither comforts Yousuke, though; no matter how resolved he's gotten about his life, having a Persona – no matter which one it is – hasn't gotten him any closer to finding out what it's like to get in a girl's panties.

It takes Yousuke all of perhaps two seconds to think all of this, but in that time, Chie has already said his name three times.

"What are you waiting for?" she snaps. "Put those on!"

He looks up from the precious cloth in his hands, at last. "Wait- What?"

She grabs the hem of the skirt around his waist. "I can totally see your underpants!"

"Hey, quit it!" he squeaks, shoving her hand away. Then he straightens up, fighting the urge to cover his boys. "I am _not_ wearing girls' underwear!" he hisses.

"Look, this is your fault!" she snarls, jabbing her finger in the bow on his chest. "But now that we're in it, I wanna win, and you're not gonna do that if everybody can see those stupid orange shorts under your skirt! So you put those on, or I will make sure that you can't sit down for a _week_!" And her right leg shudders, as though itching to start swinging.

So he backs away from her, and heads to the boys' lavatory, glowering at Kanji fixing his wig in the mirror.

"I can see your shorts," Kanji mutters.

"Shut up," Yousuke growls. And he slams the stall door closed while he takes back every wishful, hungry, short-sighted thought he's had about Satonaka Chie and her panties.

Until it's all over, of course – the humiliation of standing in front of the school in a miniskirt and makeup – and he climbs back into his comfortable, familiar gakuran...and he realizes that she never said he had to give them back.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Just a fluffy, smutty distraction from a long work day.

Hopefully, you enjoy another brief glimpse into the confused and conflicted mind of my male protagonist.


	7. Spite and Chocolates, 2012 March

_Shin Megami Tensei and Persona 4 are owned by Atlus. Names and likenesses used here without permission._

**1000 Words: "Spite and Chocolates"  
by Mayumi-H, AKA BonusParts**

* * *

Yousuke never should've bought those chocolates in the first place.

White Day's never been his favorite holiday – Junes is always packed, and he usually gets stuck working behind some display hawking gifts for the losers trying to make impressions on girls who'd never even give him the time of day...

But this year's different.

This year, there's a girl worth the effort of ducking into aisles to make sure nobody sees him picking out the finest gift of chocolate-covered strawberries that his paycheck can buy.

He looks at the box in his hands proudly. While it isn't as nice as the really big boxes, it's different from the rest (wrapped in charming curling ribbon), like she's different from the rest (wrapped in charming ribbon curls), and it's sure to impress.

When he walks into the classroom, she actually calls his name. And it's so sweet to hear somebody say his name, in that way he's wanted a girl to say it since the first time he's had his heart broken (back in kindergarten: by pretty babysitter Michiko...at whom he'd never looked the same after he'd found a bouquet to her laying forgotten on the kitchen table).

"Yousuke-senpai! For me?"

Rise bounces over, shining her knee-weakening smile. It's an idol thing, he's sure, but it doesn't matter, because at the moment she's wearing it just for him.

"Yeah," Yousuke says, passing her the box of chocolates as he fights to keep from stammering.

"That's so _sweet_," Rise purrs.

"Well," Yousuke says, shuffling one foot awkwardly. "You gave me Valentine's Day chocolates, so..."

"You're sweet," Rise says again, patting his cheek affectionately. Yes, definitely affection, not the homogenized warmth that she shows everyone, despite gender or standing...and despite what Chie says.

_She got chocolates for every guy in school_, Chie sneered at him back in February, when he'd been walking on clouds at the idea of Risette taking a shine to him. _You really think you're something special? Get real!_

He shakes his head, trying to get Chie's voice out of his ears; if Rise weren't standing there, he'd try to drown out the memory of Chie's stupid jeers with some pounding bass from his headphones.

But Rise's so lovely that he just clenches his jaw, as he tries to forget about the other girl.

"Rise-chan," he mutters. "I was thinking, maybe, if you aren't doing anything later...?"

Suddenly, she jumps up. "Souji-senpai!" she cries, and she pushes past Yousuke, dropping his gift onto the desk beside them, all but forgotten.

Yousuke looks at it, at her, and at Souji, too, who smiles as she smothers him with an embrace.

"Oo, thank you, senpai!" she cries, clutching the box of chocolates from Souji to her chest...just like Yousuke had done, with the ones she'd gotten for him. "This is the best White Day ever!"

_Yeah. Thanks, partner_, Yousuke thinks, shoving his hands into his gakuran pockets as he ducks out to the exit.

Walking out, he sighs, lamenting the loss of this week's paycheck and a perfectly good box of confections.

Maybe he should've picked it up again, given it to somebody at work (Kazumi's pretty and she likes him...sort of), or some other girl at school (maybe if he's nice to Ai first, she'll warm up to him, at least enough not to turn up her nose whenever he walks past). Then he looks up, to see another pair of girls beside him.

Yukiko says hello, but Chie snickers, and he thinks maybe he should've grabbed those chocolates just to throw them into her smug little face.

"Didja see him back there?" Chie jeers toward Yukiko. "All proud of himself for getting up the nerve to talk to Rise-chan. And still... _Denied!_"

Her teasing makes his blood boil – more than it should, but she pushes his buttons like nobody's business – so he points at the box she's clutching to her chest like some trophy, a gift from somebody who's actually interested in her, instead of the generic standard he knows it to be.

"What's that?" he snarls. "Those from Seta?"

"That's right," Chie preens, gazing at the box with such unadulterated longing that he can't wait to burst her precious, sanctimonious bubble, even as he hears Susanoo's breezy warning:

_Thy tongue is sharper than any sword. Thou wouldst do well to hold it steady..._

But Yousuke doesn't feel like listening, even to himself. "He got chocolates for every girl he knows," he says. "You think you're special?" And now his cruel meaning surely hits home; he can see it on her face, her smile all but gone. "Get real!"

He expects her to yell at him, curse him with the pseudo-swear words she uses because she's too much of a good girl to let loose; to sneer an insult that's become the norm with her, these days, without Shadows to fight; to cock her leg in that painfully familiar way that foretells one of her famous Critical Hits is coming.

What he doesn't expect is for her adorably-snub nose to cringe...her beautiful lips to quaver...or her soulful brown eyes to go suddenly glassy, as she clenches Souji's giftbox in her fist, the cellophane making a hurt, angry, broken sound as she throws it in his face, candies scattering like buckshot.

"You're a _jerk_, Hanamura!" she shouts. "You're a jerk, and...I _hate_ you!" Then she spins on her heel, her rubber soles squealing on the concrete steps, as she _runs_ from him.

"Chie-!" Yukiko says, but Chie's already away. So she turns to him, her eyes flashing like his daggers in the afternoon sunshine that, despite its brightness, feels very, very cold right now. "Thanks a lot," she mutters, and then she's gone, too.

And if there's one thing Yousuke wishes at this moment, it's that he'd never bought those stupid chocolates in the first place.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Written in "celebration" of Valentine's Day and White Day, February 14 and March 14, respectively.

As sweet as young infatuation can often be, I figured it could also be very ugly and angry, certainly between two people who fight as often as Yousuke and Chie do. If this seems cruel...well, it's supposed to.


	8. The One Girl, 2012 March

_Shin Megami Tensei and Persona 4 are owned by Atlus. Names and likenesses used here without permission._

**1000 Words: The One Girl (March 2012)  
by Mayumi-H, AKA BonusParts**

* * *

The question comes from nowhere, jumping from Yousuke's mouth thoughtlessly, as most words tend to do:

"Who's your favorite?"

Souji stops walking, turning his gaze toward Yousuke. "Hmm?" he asks in that steady tone that Yousuke both admires and despises.

Yousuke rolls his eyes. "The girls," he says irritably, not quite believing that Souji didn't understand the question. The guy is the smartest among them, after all... Plus, it always feels like he can read Yousuke like a book.

Souji smiles, resumes walking. "Oh," is all he says.

Yousuke watches him for a moment, then runs to catch up. "Come on, dude," he says, leaning close conspiratorially. "You can tell me."

With a witting chuckle, Souji faces forward again. "Why do you ask?"

Yousuke stands straight again to feign disinterest, his fingers knitted behind his head, though that feels wrong, somehow. Because Souji's answer is important. Maybe the most important answer to the most important question Yousuke has asked, since the end of the case.

"Well, you know," Yousuke mutters. "You're leaving soon, and I...wanna watch your back, is all." He forces a grin, even though his pulse is pattering so loudly that he almost doesn't hear himself speak. "Make sure nobody muscles in on your favorite girl while you're away."

Souji doesn't stop, but he does raise his dark grey brows with something like amusement. Yousuke thinks for a moment that that expression isn't quite complete without glasses to peer over, although Souji hardly needs a prop to make him look superior. Finally, he chuckles again. "You don't need to worry about that," he says, as they come up to the soda machine. "She's strong enough to look after herself."

Yousuke drops his shoulders, watching Souji buy some sodas, but not watching at the same time. Because Souji's words hit him harder than even that last punch down by the river.

So there _is_ a girl. One girl whom Souji favors above the others – the ones on the team as well as all the girls he's been seen with around town, at club meetings and after-school jobs. Pretty, flirty, shy girls who fawn over him, like everybody does (and here Yousuke has to bite his tongue a little, because he knows he curries for Souji's favor, too; has since that first day when they fell into Mayonaka).

But there's only one girl who matches Souji's description, and that's what makes Yousuke's stomach knot.

"Strong, huh?" Yousuke echoes softly.

There's only one girl among them all who could be called that. The one with the short nose that wrinkles when she laughs, and the warm brown eyes that flash when she's excited, and the bright green jacket that he's learned to pick out at a glance even in the fog, or in the glooming dark, or in the bright beating sun, just to know that she's close, and safe, and all right.

Yousuke briefly considers putting on his headphones and cranking the angry techno playlist that he always queues up when he doesn't want to think. Because, right now, he really doesn't want to think about Souji's words.

Why didn't he say something to Souji before now? Souji's a good guy; he would have understood. Would have understood that there's no way Yousuke has a chance with any girl – not even _that one_, the one who always pairs up with _him_ in the TV world, who always asks _him_ to pick up her tab at Aiya or Souzai or Junes, who always picks _him_ when she wants to vent her frustrations – to whom Souji offers even the least bit of preference.

His hands are actually on his headphones – he'll tell Souji he has to go to work, which is true, and maybe they can hang out some other time – when, abruptly, he changes his mind.

Souji is not his best friend for no reason. He's smart and compassionate; he listens to everybody's problems without complaint; he's patient when he helps with studies, and conscientious when he helps with work. Yousuke is envious, of course (and Souji knows that, too), but Souji is so friendly and supportive, so faithful, so _cool_, that any girl whom he chooses as his favorite would have to be damn extraordinary in her own right.

And she is. Friendly and supportive; faithful. _Cool_.

Just like Souji.

And that's what stops Yousuke from putting on his headphones and sulking away. Because that one girl deserves somebody great, like Souji.

"Well," Yousuke mutters, kicking at a stone in the street. It doesn't go far, at least not so far as she could make it go; she can send Shadows into orbit with her kicks... "Just because she's strong, that doesn't mean that, you know, you shouldn't still take care of her. I mean...she'll be sad when you go." He sucks in a breath, shrugging one shoulder. "So, you know. Just...treat her right. At least while you can."

There's a long, silent pause between them. Then Souji nods, passing him a Ribbon Citron. "You're right," he says softly, and smiles. "Maybe you could...do me a favor, and look after her for me?"

Yousuke blinks. Fuck, that's all he needs – stay close to the one girl who can't be his, because Souji chose her first, and Souji makes her happy.

But what can he say...?

Souji shrugs. "Nanako-chan's a capable girl, but she-"

Yousuke suddenly drops his soda. "Wh-? _Nanako-chan_?"

Souji nods. "Yeah. She's close to the others, but...I think I'd trust her most with you." He tilts his head. "Kind of a...surrogate ani." The irrefutable smile returns. "Some girls are just...extra special, you know?"

Yousuke chuckles, feeling stupid as he stoops to pick up the can from the ground. "Yeah," he mutters as he rises, offering Souji a crooked, embarrassed smile. "Yeah, I'm starting to get that, myself."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

No matter how you play the Protagonist (Souji) in the game, I always thought that the most important girl in his life during those days was Nanako. :)

Pure fluff, I know...but it's a nice break from all of the heavier drama I'm writing over on the other side of the fence.


	9. Melt Away, 2012 June

_Shin Megami Tensei and Persona 4 are owned by Atlus. Names and likenesses used here without permission._

**1000 Words: Melt Away (June 2012)  
by Mayumi-H, AKA BonusParts**

* * *

It's June twenty-second, 2012, and it should be a good day for Hanamura Yousuke. It should herald the onset of freedom, maturity, and awakening...and not just of the sexual kind (though that's usually at the forefront of Yousuke's mind). It should be spent screaming his name from the rooftops, not tracing it silently with his finger as he slouches, chin planted firmly on fist, behind the Junes food court counter.

He shouldn't be here, not today. Because today, eighteen beckons to him like a beacon, singing to him to drop everything and forget about stupid Junes and its work shifts, time sheets and summer treats menus.

He should just rip off this stupid smock, he thinks, and jump on his bike (not the Kawasaki he's been lusting after these last eighteen months, but _Arashi_ is just as good, dents and all), and leave this manager's son's life behind. Because if he's learned anything during this year, it's that life is full of more fantastic excitement than anything Inaba could offer.

Inaba isn't even the worst of it, though, or what's put Yousuke in his foul humor. He can handle work, the useless duties of serving topsicles and ice cream to oblivious customers. But today is his birthday, his _eighteenth_ birthday, and he's always thought – always dreamed – that today would bring with it something beautiful.

Or, more precisely, some_one_ beautiful.

He glances up, and someone beautiful does approach: an impeccably-shaped blonde who shimmies the way that girls (women, he corrects himself, since he's now entered manhood on this should-have-been glorious day) do, when they know guys are watching them. And guys always watch this one; he knows – he's done his fair share of stumbling into walls for following her swinging gait with his hungry gaze.

He stands up a little straighter (and beneath both counter and smock, something else stands a little straighter, too) and throws this beauty the most dashing smile he can muster. "Ebihara! Looking good!"

Ai turns at the call, her pale curls brushing across her flawless cheek. Shit, even in this heat, she's gorgeous.

And unflappable, too, based on her deadpan reply. "When Hell freezes over, smock-boy," she glowers, and faces forward again, her heels clacking against the concrete of the court.

Yousuke snarls, even as he enjoys the view of Ai's accentuated posterior walking away. It's certainly not the most perfect ass he's ever laid his seeking eyes on (that particular honor belongs to another girl), but he'll take what thrills he can get, especially today.

"Aw, don't listen to her."

Yousuke turns in some surprise at that familiar, high-pitched voice, to look into the scowling face of the owner of said perfect ass. "Satonaka. Hey."

Chie watches Ai go, too, her snub nose wrinkling at the other female's back. Then she turns to Yousuke with an easy smile that looks almost comforting. "I think the smock's cute."

Yousuke slumps. Cute. That's nowhere near dashing, or handsome, or cool. No wonder Ai – and every other girl – thinks he's a dork; he dresses the part every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday (and sometimes Saturday, if the old man uses his mind control powers to saddle him with a weekend shift).

"Thanks," he grumbles disparagingly, wiping down the counter even though it isn't any dirtier than it was a moment ago. "What're you doing here?"

Chie perks to her full height (all the way to his shoulder). "Ice cream?" she suggests, and then presses her lips together somewhat thoughtfully. "Strawberry?"

"Oh, a _normal_ flavor," he teases as he picks his way through the miniaturized tubs of chocolate, vanilla, and swirling fudge, until he finds one of his favorite. He slides it over to her, along with a spoon. Then he leans on his arm, taking the moment to watch her in distracted amusement, as she digs in her pockets for her coin purse, one leg cocked coltishly to the side.

He's always thought she's cute (pretty) – especially with those strong, stunning legs, and that firm, flawless ass – but he's also come to notice of late that she's subtle, and smooth, and...soft...in a spit-stealing way that he never thought he could consider of a girl (woman) who's always seemed to take so much personal pleasure in tormenting him.

And he realizes suddenly that just one timeless clutch of that shapely little body would be enough to change his whole mind about this day, this place, this life. A beautiful someone to make all the mundanity worth it.

But she's about as interested in him that way as Ai is (or less, if that's possible); why else all of the knocks to the nads?

And it's not like he's Souji, after all.

He notices that she's peeled back the ice cream's cover and is just staring at it, so he tilts his head at her:

"What's wrong?"

She blinks, then looks at him. She pushes the cup toward him, shrugging one shoulder close to her ear at the same time. "Happy birthday," she murmurs.

He blinks back dumbly, first at the cup and then at her. "Uh...?"

"Strawberry's your favorite, right?" She shrugs again now, blushing lightly (beautifully). "Sorry. I know it's lame. But I...kinda forgot, before I spent my allowance."

"N-No," he stammers. "This is...fine. It's nice of you, really. Thanks."

Chie pauses, then nods. "I've gotta get home," she mutters. "Maybe we can do something tomorrow. But...you have a good day today. Okay?" And before he can reply, she hops up and puts her arms around him, clutching him close, very briefly, but timeless to his mind.

He doesn't want her to let go, but she does.

"Don't let it melt away," she tells him with a smile.

"I won't," he says, and as he watches her go, it's with a new sense of excitement of everything Inaba has to offer.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Just a brief vignette to celebrate Yousuke's birthday.

For a different - though still highly enjoyable - take on turning eighteen for young Hanamura, be sure to check out **Akashic Torment's "Chocolate Kisses"** one-shot! It's worth it! :D


	10. Missing Pieces, 2013 April

_Shin Megami Tensei and Persona 4 are owned by Atlus. Names and likenesses used here without permission._

**1000 Words: Missing Pieces  
by Mayumi-H, AKA BonusParts**

* * *

It's in the middle of helping clean the Doujima family's bathroom that Yousuke realizes he's going to miss Inaba when he leaves for university.

Not the liquor store that reminds him – still – of Konishi Saki, or the lack of any real music store, or the mediocre fare that Souzai touts as specialties; he won't miss any of that. But he'll miss the drifting cherry blossom petals in springtime, and the open streets that let him race _Arashi_ for all she's worth, and the clear nights when he can look up and see the stars, with the reverberant sounds of his bass singing for him into the dark.

And the friends he's made, the ones staying behind in this sequestered hamlet. He'll miss them, too. Especially the three girls (he can't quite bring himself to consider Naoto as anything but one of the guys, despite the truth and her newfound bearing).

Rise is beautiful and bubbly...but decidedly unattainable for anyone except Souji (and that alone makes the thought of leaving her behind a lot easier). Still, he'll miss her giggly smile, her sparkling eyes, and her all-for-one attitude.

Yukiko is genteel and gracious, especially during these last days. She even offered to bring obento from the ryokan for today's spring cleaning, extending a smile as she recalled his favorite dessert. (_"Strawberry cake, right?"_) He'll miss her demure propriety, her charming attention to family and tradition, even the way that her incongruous laughter rings out over what feels like the whole town sometimes.

And then there's Chie.

Chie is..._different_.

He pauses in cleaning the window to turn and consider her: bent over the tub as she scrubs it, making little grunting noises because she's too short to reach all the way to the other side without straining. She stretches one leg, muscles shifting beneath her smooth skin, from her bare ankle all the way to her high-rising shorts cuff.

How many times has he watched those legs – running, jumping, kicking, swaying – without her even knowing, without her ever looking his way, totally oblivious to his attentions and affections...?

Unfortunately, he can never just _talk_ to her. Every time he opens his mouth around her, he says something stupid and insensitive and completely counter-productive to the things he really wants to tell her:

_I've really liked you for a long time._

_You're the best thing about this place._

_I don't want to be just friends anymore._

But he's too scared, and that makes him sound blithe and unaffected, and he's spent the last two-plus years trying to figure out a way to just be a damn man for once and not let this girl slip through his fingers, like the last one.

"You all ready to leave tomorrow?" Chie asks of a sudden. Her tone is conversational, but he notices that she doesn't look around at him. Maybe she doesn't want to...?

"Yeah," he replies. And he has to cough, because his voice squeaks for a second. "The last train to Tokyo. Will you meet me at the station?" he jokes.

She doesn't get it. (It's a dumb joke anyway.) "If you really want me to...I guess," she says quizzically, and now she does turn around, resting her cute butt on the tub's rim.

"I'm kidding," he says, his mouth once again jumping to speak before his brain can stop it; that was a perfect opening, and like the moron that he is, he missed it. So he backpedals, trying to recapture the moment. "You gonna miss me?" he asks, mostly teasing because that's the way they've always communicated.

"Yeah," she says, and her plainness is startling. She glances down at her adorable wiggling toes, almost...shy? "I've gotten used to having you around." She giggles. "I mean, who else am I gonna argue with?" And she shrugs, regarding him with a faint smile.

He doesn't know how to read that smile. "Well, you'll visit me at school, right?" he asks, moving to sit beside her on the edge of the tub. They've sat like this before – side by side – but it's never felt quite like this: weighty, uncertain, almost portentous. So he tries to cover it up with his familiar winking grin. "I'll take you to my favorite steak place. They make the best korokke ever!"

She shrugs again, murmuring, "Souzai makes pretty good korokke..."

He laughs. "Yeah, if you wanna be chewing all night!" Shaking his head, he leans back on one hand, using the other to make a definitive sweeping gesture. "Rare Heaven's _way_ better. They know what they're doing in the city, trust me!" And he grins, pleased to impress her.

She doesn't react as he hopes. At first, her smile simply fractures, at the corners of her mouth. But then it falls completely, and she rises, clenching her fists at her sides, and he wonders what he's said to offend her, this time. "Well, I'm sorry that our simple, country korokke isn't good enough for you, Mister Metropolitan Hotshot! But there's still some stuff we've got that the big city can't even touch! Like...a ryokan with real hot springs! And...our very own river! And...and TVs to other worlds! And...and..."

_You?_ he thinks, but of course he doesn't say that. He can't. Not now. Not the day before he has to step onto a train and say goodbye to this strange, pathetic, beautiful little town that's so full of laughter and heartache for him.

But he also can't stop himself from standing up close to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Satonaka."

She sighs, as if sensing how silly this argument of one-upmanship is. "What?"

He smiles. "I'll miss you, too."

She blinks, then drops her forehead against his chest. And even though this is not as sweet as the lingering farewell kiss he was hoping for, he knows he'll miss her most of all.

**

* * *

**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I know, I cheated here. The vignettes are only supposed to take place during 2011-2012, but I skipped forward and did one from 2013, right before Yousuke leaves for university in Tokyo. But during spring cleaning today, I got this idea in my head and couldn't shake it, and it just didn't work any other way.

The (admittedly stupid) "joke" Yousuke makes refers to the lyrics of "Last Train to Clarksville." It's a song by the Monkees, from the 1960s, and there's really no reason why Chie would get it.


End file.
